Oh, Miller
by chekovsgunman
Summary: Nick and the loft moving forward the only way they know how. Awkwardly.
1. Chapter 1

Sunlight brought Nick Miller back to consciousness, albeit slowly. With a sigh he opened his eyes, the sound of Schmidt and Winston invading his room and reminding him that he was in fact in his room, at home, in the loft. He wasn't still back in Chicago, Jess wasn't dressed like the King, he was home, and his father was gone for real this time. It wasn't a pleasant sensation and he fell back against his bed, deflating audibly with a groan. The noise of his roommates continued unabated, leaving his face twisted up in annoyance. Shifting his eyes to the alarm clock perched on the end of a cinder block by his bed; he read 7:12 AM. Who argues this loud before anyone is even supposed to have started to have existed? The drone of Schmidt and Winston led him to rise, grabbing the sweatpants on top of his still packed suitcase.

"I will not stand idly by Winston! You're better than this!" Schmidt howled.

"Really Schmidt? This is where we're at right now?" Winston replied through a mouthful of eggs and burnt bacon.

"It's your one good sweater; you really need to up your wardrobe. Winter's coming, Winston, you can't be ruining well spun cashmere by wiping your grubby little fingers on it. Really I'm just looking out for your sartorial health." Schmidt continued, earning a roll of the eyes from his friend who rose from the table and grabbed his keys.

"Whatever," Winston waved his hands over his head, pivoting to turn back, pointing a finger at Schmidt, "just go easy on the crazy today, alright? We only just got back from Pop Pop's funeral and I haven't heard anything out of Nick's room since. Maintain caution on the Miller front, you hear me man?" "

Schmidt held his hands up in surrender, "Hey, hey, if anyone can console our dear Nicholas through his mourning period it's me," Schmidt flashed a huge grin and gestured to himself with flourish, "his best friend."

Nick pressed his ear to the door of his room; it'd been quiet for awhile now. He had spent the last few hours killing time in his room. Nearly a paragraph of his zombie novel had been completed, his socks had been organized, well not organized but they had been moved from one part of his room to another less dirty part.

Hearing nothing, Nick ever so slowly opened his door, peering down the hallway. Waiting a moment provided no sound or scurry of movement, so he relaxed, stepping out and padding into the bathroom. The shower came to life with a twist of the knob and he tossed his clothes on the floor, hoping the hot water would make him feel better. Or at least dissolve him so he wouldn't have to think about what had happened. Nick's mind wandered as he washed his hair, feeling a little fancy for using real shampoo and everything.

'_They're all gone, thank god. I can't deal with another Schmidt vice grip hug or Winston's weird stare that I swear I think he thinks is supposed to make me feel better, or…' _he thought, pausing when his mind wandered to Jess. Did he want to see her? After everything she did to help him in the last few days he wasn't sure. He still felt this tension between them. Especially after the fish tank and their kiss and how little they had even attempted to talk about it. Not that he wanted to or anything, there was no way he'd say anything the way he'd hope to. Had he even really thanked her for dressing up like Elvis and singing at his father's funeral?

And, okay that surely hadn't been something he ever expected to have to wonder about but she did do it for him. Because they were friends. Friends do that kind of thing all the time, right?

Nick shook his head in frustration, turning off the water and toweling off ineffectually. Dripping water followed him into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist. _'Not every day that I get the whole place to myself. Early afternoon beer? No, no. Naked dancing? No, I can't find my reggae mix' _Consumed in thought and absent mindedly rubbing the towel through is hair, his eyes locked onto the clock by the TV. It proudly blinked a bright red 3:40 PM in luminescent blocky numbers. He had work in twenty minutes. He had work in twenty minutes and he was standing half wet and naked in the living room. He had work in twenty minutes, was standing half wet and naked in the living room, and had yet to unpack his suitcase aside from one pair of sweat pants. How long had he been in that damn shower?

Never in his entire life had Nicholas Miller moved so fast, skidding into his room as quickly as his legs would carry him. He stared at his suitcase with its airport tags still on for a moment before turning and tearing into the back of his closet. There had to be a single semi clean outfit lurking somewhere in the depths of the Miller Pit. Elbow deep in discarded clothing and pizza boxes he found a pair of jeans and dubious flannel that fit a little snug as he threw it on, already moving into the hallway. With his mind already trying to formulate what he was going to tell Shane regarding his lateness, he very much missed the sound of footsteps and jingling keys.

"Oh! Hey, it's good to see you up and abou-"Jess greeted, pausing mid sentence as she turned and saw Nick frozen with one hand on the front door and the other yet to have found its way into his shirt.

His hair and body were still damp and he was panting slightly from his Olympic spring into the closet. They stared at each other for a moment, maintaining eye contact as Nick crept the door open, filling the room with an awkward squeak.

Jess spoke first, looking away from him and clearing her throat, "So uh, are you-" She paused a moment and looked at him, dark curls bouncing ever so slightly as she took him in, about to continue her thought when he interjected loudly, swinging the door open with a crash, "I used shampoo today!"

Her mouth opened a closed a couple times, trying to come up with a response. She was too slow, however, as Nick took the opportunity to moonwalk out the door, still struggling with his shirt and looking confusing as all hell.

She didn't move, staring at the door and trying to remove the image of a half naked and damp Nick Miller from her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm grateful for the lovely reception. I hope to continue this regularly, if you all enjoy reading it.**

It wasn't until after a hectic happy hours at Clyde's that Nick had time to relax for a minute and think. The bar was wiped clean and the only patrons left were the regulars. Solid fixtures that were as much a part of Clyde's as the furniture, or him, he considered with a frown. Scanning the room he crossed his arms and noted with annoyance that most of them weren't much older than him anymore, if at all. Ticking off the years in his head, he considered how long he'd been at Clyde's dispensing people's poisons. The number he came up with didn't make him happy.

Nick shook his head, puttering about the bar to dislodge the self depreciating thoughts floating around his head. Not that rearranging stacks of shot glasses really helped all that much, in fact it got him to remembering earlier that day. First his little freak out with Jess, which he couldn't decide whether it was entirely appropriate given his week or if he had once again set the bar for being a crazy person. _'Come on man, shape up. You moon walked all the way to the elevato-' _he thought, groaning out loud as he remembered the elevator ride.

Not once in his life had four floors passed so slowly in his life. He had made it into the elevator backwards, still panicking and tugging his shirt on right, he didn't even see them walk in. _'I really, really need to learn to pay attention.'_ Nick cringed at the memory, recalling Remy and that couple walking in together.

It was something out of his nightmares. Trapped in the elevator with the landlord he nearly had a threesome with, and the pair that had evidently replaced Jess and himself in the daring deed. Hell, the guy and gal looked just as awkward as he did. No one said anything but Remy, who was oddly friendly, and god he would have given anything in the world to most certainly not hear what he had said.

Granted he didn't come right out and _say _that he and the couple had just engaged in a communal interactive sex event. However Nick was not, despite some claims to the contrary, an idiot. Also it didn't help that Remy possessed by far the worst innuendo he had ever heard. What even was a messy stinkbug? His whole body shuddered, focusing harder on those shot glasses.

Jess wandered around the apartment after Nick left. She was sure there were a hundred things she should be doing, but her mind was buzzing and she barely had the presence of mind to make herself a cup of tea. A cup she was cradling in both her hands as she paced in circles around the kitchen, fidgeting and worrying over that damn Miller.

It wasn't as if she hadn't gotten used to his aberrant behavior since she had moved in. In fact it had become something of a comfort, something that made him stand out in their little loft of crazy. His ineptitude, in a weird way, held them all together. There was no denying that he was the unshaved, grumpy glue that made them all such strong friends. But it felt different now.

When they'd flown in he had been so calm, so composed, so un-Nick like. It was jarring, he didn't even yell at any doors, not one. He didn't look so much exasperated with his roommates, as he usually was. Nick didn't pout or admonish her for her singing, although he did wordlessly produce an empty jar from his carry on at one point during the flight after Schmidt had made an elaborate mile high club joke. Jess smiled at the memory, setting her now empty mug into the sink.

When she turned around she heard the door open and Winston appeared around the corner, nodding at Jess and cracking the fridge for a beer. An idea crept into her mind.

"Heeey Winston," she spoke in her sing song voice, "you know Nick pretty well, right?"

Winston popped the top off his beer, pushing out his lower lip and pretending to think hard, "Well we grew up together, shared a dad, I've seen his mom naked, yeah, yeah I'd say I know him pretty well." He spoke as he wandered over to the couch, sitting down with a satisfying thump.

Jess followed him, twisting her lips and considering how she wanted to broach the topic of the inner Nick. "So I bet he was a real hoot back in the day, huh?" She began, ending her sentence in an old timey voice and a swoop of her arm. "You two get up to some real shenanigans? You know, ahem, sex, rock and roll," Jess continued, trying to remain casual, pushing her glasses up her nose as she finished, "meaningful emotional dialogue, all that kind of stuff?"

Winston glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows. "Alright, alright. What's this about Jess?"

"Nothing! Nothing, just making small talk with my pal Winston, am I right?" To emphasize her point she leaned forward and awkwardly slugged him in the shoulder.

Despite her powers of misdirection, Winston remained unconvinced. He looked from his shoulder back over to her, setting down his beer and crossing his arms, silently waiting for her to get to the point.

"Okay, okay," she held her hands up and crossed her legs on the couch, "Nick's been acting really weird and I'm worried because, you know, and I just thought, maybe you'd know how to get in his head." As she spoke she made a swimming motion, earning another look from Winston.

"Is… is that you swimming into his head?" He pointed to her and mimicked her motion.

"Well, yeah theoretically, that was uhm, the idea." Jess' voice got quieter and more sincere as she paused before flailing her arms, "Come on, help me out over here."

Winston tilted his head and turned towards her, gesturing to Nick's room, "Alright, look. Nick? He's just like this. Ever since we were kids, man, he was weird about this," he spoke slowly and motioned between them, "you know, talking about stuff, for real. A lot went unsaid in the Miller house, especially with Walt coming and going."

The conversation got quieter as Winston kept talking. Jess had never heard much about Nick's life, she could never quite get anything out of him. The most she'd learned had been this past week, meeting his family and seeing a totally different side of him. It felt strange to see Nick as this responsible guy trying to hold his family up. The thought definitely provoked some confusing feelings in her. She never imagined him like that, caring and fatherly, and oh, that idea sent unexpected warmth through her. Fatherly.

"He really did step up and become the man of the house. I can't remember a year in high school where he wasn't working part time somewhere around town. Nick locks up on a lot of stuff because, well," Winston paused, looking at Jess' wide, glassy eyed expression. He suddenly started backtracking, becoming aware that he had probably shared too much, at least much more than Nick would let him get away with, "Uh, I mean, like-"

Jess clasped her hands together in front of herself, "He's just a scruffy down home underdog in need of a safe space to express his feelings!"

Winston blinked, seriously regretting the last ten minutes as Jess went into a speech about how they should decorate the loft and sit in a circle so Nick could let out all the feelings he's been bottling up. _'Winnie boy, you are as dumb as it gets. Nick is going to kill you.' _He thought with fear, listening to her explain how they should surprise him so he can't moon walk away, _'He seriously might kill you. Come on, fix this. Fix this before Nick finds out! Abort!'_

"Whoa, whoa, don't get weird about this. It's Nick we're talking about. Niiiick." He drew out his name for emphasis, "I repeat, do not get weird about this. We all need to just keep acting normal and everything will be fine. He'll say something if he wants to." Winston tilted his head to the side and looked up for a moment, "Ooor if he has enough to drink. But-"

Jess cut him off with a huff, "Come on Winston! This is our roommate, your best friend! We have to be there for him, let him know it's okay to talk about how he's feeling. It isn't healthy to avoid it like he does! I still have one of my feelings sticks somewhere, we cou-"

Winston stood up suddenly, pointing a finger at Jess, "No! Jess I swear if you get weird about this and Schmidt and I have to clean up the fall out I will bring down the full force of," his voice dropped and he drew his hands up dramatically, "Theodore K. Mullins."

Jess blinked a couple times, not even sure what that would entail.

"Just play it cool, alright?" Winston spoke, not waiting for an answer as he walked towards the hall, disappearing into his room and shutting the door.

Jess smiled. She'd play it cool alright. Jessica Day was cool as a cucumber.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Artifical catalyst anyone?**

The day was long behind Nick now, night stretching out ahead of him as last call rung through the bar. He only had two final beers to pour, one for his favorite regular, Julius Pepperwood, and one for himself. The two pints lay in front of him on the bar, cool and slick with condensation. No one was left in Clyde's, the burden of closing on him. Not that he really minded. Not tonight, anyway. His mind was too muddled with different thoughts interposed in his head. One thundered louder than the others, though. Walt was dead. Not gone, not off on a scam, not at the track, not on the other end of the line wishing him a merry Christmas, dead.

Nick ran his fingers over the droplets sliding down the glasses and forming a ring on the bar. The liquid pooled on his finger tip, briefly reflecting the dull lights in the bar. Nick thumped his head against the wood, trying to scatter the feelings welling up inside him. A long exhale escaped his lips and he pulled the first pint up to them, saturating his tongue with the insistent, bitter taste. It wasn't bad, and before long all that was left was a foamy ring at the bottom of the glass. Leaning against the bar he rolled his neck back and forth, enjoying the pleasant warmth curling in his stomach.

With a brief pause he reached for the second pint, wrapping his hand around it. His thumb ran circles over the cool, wet glass. A frown burrowed its way onto his face. Walt was dead. His chest coiled again, like it had been over and over since he picked up the phone and booked a flight to Chicago. A swoop of his arm and two swallows tugged him down under that same bitter taste again. Nick set the glass down, patting down his pants in a search for his phone, suddenly aware that he was drinking alone, where he worked, on a weeknight. Walt was dead, but he couldn't sit alone and change it with two beers, or five, or twenty, although the thought was certainly appealing.

Finally unearthing his phone from a spot under the bar where he had evidently left it, he scrolled through his messages. The gang hadn't come by all night and part of him wished they had. No messages. The frown returned. He wasn't terribly surprised, though. Since they'd been back he had hardly left his room so it was natural that they would give him space. But at this point, half way through his second beer after hours at the bar, he wasn't sure he wanted it. Maybe he could, maybe he wouldn't mind talking to them about it, about something. Before the satisfying warmth of alcohol left, he dialed Schmidt's number and brought the phone to his ear, waiting through quite a few rings before he picked up.

"Hey man, uh, do you wan-" he stammered, suddenly very unsure of what exactly he was doing.

Schmidt's response came in what sounded like one breath and over the sound of music and labored movement, "Nicholas! As happy as I am that you've learned to finally operate your phone, I can't really talk at the moment because I got into a bit of an argument over the availability of a certain young woman in Chanel with an individual at this party and he - _move lady! Schmidt coming through!_ - and he threatened a physical altercation but I already called Jess and she's-"

Nick cut him off, feeling something rise in his chest as his feet carried him out the door, "Send me the address, I'm on my way."

His foot held down the gas pedal nearly the whole way to the party, each rev of the engine feeding the rolling boil that was rattling his chest. Schmidt had never been the most tactful, but he never expected him to do something that would lead to blows. Sure, he'd be fine. Of course he'd be fine, he was Schmidt, and he generally had things together. Nick didn't take his foot off the gas, though. He needed to tell him what an ass he was, he needed to tell him to drop a twenty in the jar, and he needed to slug him for calling Jess first.

Speaking of Jess, he noticed her hulking blue beast parked outside the building as he pulled up. There was definitely a commotion and Nick could see Jess waving her arms and Schmidt in the throng of people, holding his hands up and apparently trying to assuage the red faced man bearing down on him.

Jess' voice carried over the crowd as he stepped out and hurried down the sidewalk, "Okay, okay come on let's calm down. Schmidt, Schmidt! Just apologize and, sir! Sir, whatever he did, I'm sure he didn't mean it. Just, whoa, okay, jus-"

Nick stumbled up in time to push his way over to her, his own voice startling him as it boomed over the noise, "Alright, pal. We're done here. Schmidt, come on, we'll go back to the loft." He gestured to himself and Jess, giving Schmidt a come hither motion with his other hand.

The man took two steps forward towards Schmidt, grasping him by his collar. Schmidt tried to draw back, bracing for what everyone seemed to assume was about to happen. The man grit his teeth, puffing his chest and turning to respond in a tone Nick definitely did not like, "Look, this'll be over in a second and you and that bitch can take this asshole home, alrig-"

Nick was a lot of things. He was fond of drinking, he was cheap, and some people would describe him as a grumpy, angry man. In the moment after the man spoke, as Nick heaved all his weight into driving a fist into the guy's face, he could understand why. Schmidt stumbled back and looked between Nick and the man, shock and a little awe etched all across his features. "Nick did you-did you just defend my honor?" he spoke slowly as the crowd let out a burst of noise at the scene. Nick shook out his hand, turning to face Jess. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted just so slightly that he noticed. When their eyes met, though, her jaw set and she gave him a look like hell. "Uh, yeah, sure. Let's-Let's go."

The next hour came as something of a haze to him. He remembered herding a _very _talkative Schmidt and a very _silent_ Jess into her car. He remembered Jess grabbing him as he tried to turn to go to his own car, relenting at the intense look on her face and shuffling into the back seat. He certainly remembered the splitting pain in his hand as the L.A streets rolled by. He remembered squirming out of Schmidt's grasp once they were in the loft, waving off Winston who was on the couch and looked confused at the whole scene. He also remembered the way Jess looked like she felt just as unsure as he did about what to think.

Schmidt calmed down after awhile and filled Winston in, talking with great animation as he recounted the story. Nick leaned against the kitchen counter, nodding when Winston looked at him for confirmation. He waved his sore hand up as proof; chin tucked down as he felt himself melt back into the regular Nick he was used to, not whatever he was an hour ago. A deep frown curled his face down as he inspected his hand, poking at it with a hiss. The pain distracted him from Schmidt and Winston moving to the living room and Jess planting herself in front of him.

"Nick. Miller."

His eyes swept upwards and he cringed a little, not liking the look she was throwing his way.

"Okay, so, before you-" He began slowly, bringing his hands up to defend himself.

"What was that back there? It was _fine _I had it handled." Jess huffed out, crossing her arms over her chest and drawing her pink lips into a frown.

Indignation grew long and low in his stomach, pushing out what he knew would be the start of a fight. "Handled? Are you kidding me? Jess, the guy had Schmidt by the collar. This isn't your kindergarten class, okay, it's _real life._"

"Alright, first of all? I don't teach kindergarten, Nick, and even if I did that still isn't how you handle a bully. Hitting them solves nothing, it just starts more fights. Any _six year old_ knows that!" She responded, waving her finger at him and planting a hand on her hip.

"I'm not a six year old, Jess, I'm a grown damn man and I know how to handle myself just fine, thank you very much." He drew back, turning to leave as Winston and Schmidt did the same, obviously noting the impending fight. Winston started to talk, but as he opened his mouth turned on his heel and ran to his room. Schmidt was bolder, "Please, please, guys, can't we jus-" diving between Jess and Nick mid sentence, crawling the last few feet to his room on his stomach and slamming the door.

"Oh, well great. Now everyone's upset!" Jess half yelled, dramatically dropping her hands to her side.

"They're not upset, they just don't want to be in the same room as your crazy fluff and rainbows!" Nick responded in kind, raising his voice even further.

"Well at least I can act like an _adult!_"

"I am a perfectly successful adult, Jess!"

They tore into each other for what must have been five minutes, but felt like fifty. As they flailed their arms, pacing all over the kitchen and living room, all Nick could think about was how her cheeks flushed and her blue eyes flashed with each response. He started to lose track of what they were even arguing about, only half hearing her as they passed the couch, each one somehow chasing the other.

"-and _adults _clean their room more than once a presidential administration, Miller!"

"Oh, that's where we're at now? My room is fine! I don't need you telling me to clean it, _mom._" He spoke, over emphasizing the last word and stepping towards her.

Jess stared at him a moment, one hand still suspended in accusation, as the ghost of a smile flittered over her features. Nick tilted his head, quite evidently confused by her sudden change in demeanor.

"So that's how it is, huh, Nick? Are you acting out, is that it?" She spoke with that damned smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, teasing him like a middle schooler, "Have you been hanging out with a bad crowd? Are you not getting enough attention here at home?" She paused dramatically, her mouth forming a circle and her eyebrows raising in mock surprise, "Is Schmidt teasing you again?"

Nick held out as long as he could, try his damndest to keep his face in a frown. Slowly but surely though, in time with her accusations his face twisted up into a smile and he laughed long and loud. Jess quickly joined him, the both of them leaning over and gasping for breath. Her hand found its way to his shoulder for support, keeping her upright as they slowly calmed down. Nick looked up first, catching her running a hand under her eyes to tickle away the stray tears that formed. Her eyelids fluttered and she glanced up, smiling at him.

"Hey uh, thanks." His voice felt thick, barely coming out as they held eye contact. "And, sorry."

Without missing a beat tapped a fist to his chest, "No problem."

Nick looked away and smoothed the front of his shirt, "I should uh, I should probably ice this." His hand sported a fine splash of purple and red across the knuckles and he attempted a chuckle.

Jess didn't move, still watching him. "Are you okay, Nick?" Her voice fell low in the quiet that had found its way between them.

"Of course, I'm fine, Jess. It just needs a little ice." His eyes didn't meet hers as he gestured with his swollen fist, waving her off.

"That isn't what I meant." She watched him slouch at her words, drawing inward.

"I uh. I don't know. I will be. I hope." Nick attempted a smile and slipped a hand into the pocket of his jeans.

Jess exhaled slowly, "Okay well, just, if you need to, we're here, you know." She cleared her throat and shuffled her feet, "I'm here."

Nick nodded slowly in response, not confident enough to speak. She gave him a smile and went to her room, the click of the latch leaving him alone in the living room with a sharp pain in his hand and a hot fluttering feeling in his chest.


End file.
